


mise en scene

by clumsygyrl (thegirlthatisclumsy)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: All the AUs you can find, M/M, Using movies as my muse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-13
Updated: 2006-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/clumsygyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 different pictures: 10 different movies: 100 words a piece</p>
            </blockquote>





	mise en scene

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: written for yeahchemical for the 10 pictures, 100 words challenge. i like playing in photoshop. what can i say? and i was a film major for like a nanosecond.

  


_halloween_

He was so fuckin’ cold. He looked down at his fingers, expecting them to be blue. 

Mikey laughed at him when they were younger. Called him Casper with blue shadows and eyeliner.

He can’t remember what happened. Just fragments. 

The cashier. Cigarettes. Two guys with guns.

Then nothing but pain. 

There was a skittering sound against the roof tiles. 

Gerard didn’t bother to look up, knowing who it was. The inkblack bird perched nearby.

Nothing but bits and pieces. But they kept him going, searching. 

Those were all he could feel. 

Hell, they were all he had left. Besides vengeance.

  
_marrow of life_   


“Captain, O My Captain,” Gerard mumbled.

“Give up. We’re never getting someone cool like Robin Williams here." Ray said grimacing at his homework. "No Ethan Hawke cuties either."

“…Straight boys don’t know cute.”

“Sure we do. Just don’t let on. Gives you gay boys too much hope. You really should go for Iero. Gayer than a Broadway show in WeHo." 

“And you know how?”

“I blew him.”

There was a clatter of calculators. 

“Kidding.”

“Hate you.”

“You love me. I’ll even describe what Iero looks like after soccer practice for my Trig homework.”

There was a pause. “Gimme your book.”

  
_anecdote_  


It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Ray was the wheelman. They don’t get hurt.

Mikey held his hands over the wound, lips trembled out half prayers and pleas to some forgotten God.

Frank kept cursing under his breath.

Bob just stared at the blood welling up between Mikey’s fingers. 

Watched as Ray got paler.

Gerard pleaded with Ray. To let them take him to the hospital. 

No money was worth this.

Ray grabbed Gerard’s hair, whispered to 'take care of mom' when he couldn’t.

He crushed his blood speckled lips against Gerard’s one last time before letting go.

  
_brooklyn_  


“…Senator Caught In Lovenest! Extry! Extry!” Bob called waving his paper over his head.

The gentleman smiled before taking it. “What’s the news today, Robert?”

Bob laughed pocketing the coins. “Bad news means more papes sold, sir.”

Mr. Howard winked. “That’s the Lord’s truth if there was one. Good day, Robert.”

Bob blushed. “Is now, sir.”

Another chuckle, this one lower. “Is that so?”

Bob made a show of dusting off his cap before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“We should discuss the days events in detail. Care to join me for some supper?”

Bob’s head snapped up in surprise. “ _Yes_ , sir.”

  
_boxjobs & buttonmen_  


Kansas City was no place to pull a job.

They all knew it.

They all knew that they needed this job too. Badly.

Mikey pushed up his glasses, sweat making them slip off his pointy nose. The same one Frank’d used to shove into the dirt after stickball.

Things changed.

Now Frank checked his Winchester 1892 Carbine _after_ checking on Mikey. The same gentle touches for the polished wood and steel were brushed on his baby brother’s cheek.

Gerard watched Frank watch Mikey.

The door swung open with a heavy defeated thud.

Gerard stopped watching when Mikey finally looked up.

[boxjobs= cracking a safe; buttonmen=assasins]

  
_the ghost of johnny cade_  


“This isn’t a gang. Just… sticking together.” Gerard mumbled desperately.

Frank snorted letting Ray stuff his dirty shirttail up his nose. The front of his own was soaked with his and some Soc’s blood. 

Mikey cradled his broken hand to his chest giving Gerard a look. “We’re fuckin’ beat, bro.”

Gerard grimaced shaking his head.

“No, we’re not. We ain’t no gang of thugs. We’re people. Just like them. We deserve the same respect as them. We got families. We _are_ family.” Bob said squinting at them with the eye not swollen shut. “If we bleed together-“

“We _are_ together.”

  
_shamisen_  


The strings felt light against her fingertips. The sound sharp and lilting.

The smattering of applause reverent and respectful.

An inclination of a heavily ornamented hair. The silk makes no sound as she stands, bows and disappears behind heavy brocade curtains.

A hand darts out from the shadows, pulling her into them, a hungry mouth crushing and claiming. Teeth and tongue tasting of _koh-cha_ and love.

" _Onagaishimasu_..."

"You played for me."

" _Hai. Gomen nasai._ "

"Don't be sorry." Frank tugged the heavy wig off Gerard's head, pins and combs falling and shattering ebony against old stone. "Come away with me."

"Yes."

*[shamisen](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shamisen%22) \- a guitar like instrument played by geishas; koh-cha=black tea; onagaishimasu= please; Hai= yes; gomen nasai= i'm sorry (thank you to berserkide for the japanese correction!)

  
_heredero_

_“Tu es mi heredero.”_

The sword was laid over crossed arms. Arms scarred from years of practicing and fighting with steel.

The mourners were few. Don Diego Vega’s viewing was earlier that day, hundreds came to pay their respects to the well-loved landowner.

But this… was a private memorial for a fallen hero.

He died as a hero should– surrounded by loved ones. His hair grayed from a hard but well-lived life.

The flowers that rested on the wooden lid would soon wither to nothingness. 

But like they would rise again.

As would a new hero carrying the same name.

*Tu es mi heredero= You are my heir.

  
_realigned perception_  


It shouldn’t feel this damn good. Frank clawed at his hips and back, drawing ragged red lines against his skin.

Gerard growled blinking past the sweat haze and Frank’s blood.

“You still take punches like a fuckin’ gir-,” Frank grunted as Gerard’s fist connected with his mouth.

“And do you ever stop mouthing off soon enough to actually fuck?” 

Clothes and skin tore as they rutted together.

Like animals.

Frank breathed out curses that were both Gerard’s name and prayers, his fingers and teeth tearing into him and against him. They’d all leave their scars behind.

Shouldn’t be this good.

  
_omaha_  


It was strange being back. He _had_ tried going back to Chicago and working at the factory.

Ray wrote, saying he was settling down with his high school sweetheart, Marie something.

Frank and Gerard never stayed in one place long. Forever moving. Never stopping. Frank wrote neatly lettered cards from Aberdeen to San Juan.

Bob thought maybe Gerard was searching for Michael on some other beach. And Frank… Frank followed Gerard. Just as he had before. 

“Your break’s over, Bryar,” Skiba barked shoving his shoulder.

Bob nodded, picked up his cigarette and headed straight out the factory.

Never looking back.


End file.
